


A Deadly Game

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is out to kill Sir Ardsley Wooster.  That's nothing new, but this time, if they succeed, there could well be a major war.  Consequently, he now has a bodyguard.</p>
<p>A bodyguard who, perhaps, needs to learn to be a little more respectful towards Baron Gilgamesh Wulfenbach; but, nonetheless, a very good bodyguard indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Deadly Game

“Ah, Gil,” said Sir Ardsley Wooster. “Allow me to introduce Mr Matthew Forrest.”

Gil's eyebrows shot up. For a start, Sir Ardsley was speaking to him in English, which was very unusual and must mean that it was the only language in which this Mr Forrest was conversant. And, as if that wasn't enough, there was Mr Forrest himself.

He did not at all look like the sort of person who might be politely introduced by a British Ambassador to his good friend the Baron. Bluntly, he looked like a street tough. He wore a striped shirt with a fixed collar, and over that a stained brown waistcoat in some kind of suede or moleskin. This ensemble was topped by a shapeless and somewhat out-at-elbows checked jacket and mismatched cloth cap. Next to Sir Ardsley's easy, unfussy elegance, he looked like something the cat had brought in.

Though there was something about him which made Gil suspect it would have had to be an unusually large, ferocious and determined cat.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr Forrest,” he said, politely but cautiously, in English. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“To a plot on my life, I'm afraid,” replied Sir Ardsley, coming straight to the point. “Mr Forrest is my new bodyguard, at least until we uncover the plot in question. Since he will be hovering in my vicinity at all times, including while I am here on Castle Wulfenbach, I thought it was appropriate that you should know who he was. I'm well aware that his appearance is somewhat against him, and I would not want your personal guard or anyone else arresting him by mistake.”

Forrest grinned. “Which has happened to me before, sir,” he added.

Sir Ardsley frowned a little; he was clearly not as amused about that as Forrest himself was. “Yes. Well, I am vouching for you now. I don't want it to happen to you again.”

Gil stared at him. “You are the British Ambassador and you need a bodyguard? Don't you have half of British Intelligence looking out for you?”

“Oh, Gil.” There was a note of disappointment in Sir Ardsley's voice. “You've been very secure for a long time now. Don't start getting slack.”

If anyone else had said that to Gil, he would have exploded; but it was Sir Ardsley, and so instead he thought about it. “Why don't you trust your own intelligence service?” he asked.

Sir Ardsley shrugged. “Oh, I trust some of it. But I have a few too many enemies in it to trust the whole outfit with my life, I'm afraid. I'm sure I told you what happened when they tried to recruit my niece. A few people are still _very_ upset with me over that one.”

“They're even more upset with me, sir,” said Forrest, with some relish.

“I'm not so sure about that. You did only what I told you, and you did it extremely well. Without even wounding anyone, at that.”

“Well, I know how that kind of thing bothers you, sir,” Forrest explained. “If I'd ha' been doing it for anyone else, I'd have beaten the little... er... thug black and blue, I would that, sir.”

“Yes, I'm sure you would,” said Sir Ardsley.

Gil half smiled. “I'm getting the picture. This is your Captain DuPree?”

Sir Ardsley winced. “Perish the thought. No. Mr Forrest is of a more philosophical inclination altogether. He believes that the violent should know what it is to encounter violence, and will put that belief into practice with great enthusiasm; but he is no DuPree. He would not hurt anyone who had done no harm.”

“Aye, Baron. A philosopher, that's me,” said Forrest. “Me and Sir Ardsley, we don't quite see eye to eye on what to do about villains; but we don't work so badly together for all that.”

“Indeed, we work extremely well together,” said Sir Ardsley. “A hard edge is sometimes a very necessary quality. I have always been able to summon one when I needed it, but it was a strain. Mr Forrest's hard edge is all natural and no strain on him whatsoever, and he also has a fine brain.”

“Good of you to say so, sir, but it's not an educated one,” said Forrest. “O'course, I can read and write as well as anyone, and figure well enough to keep a shop if I wanted; but I don't know all the languages and that, like you do.”

“Indeed; though I could help you do something about that, should you so wish.” Sir Ardsley turned to Gil. “So, you see, we are a formidable little team.”

“I do see,” said Gil. “So, do you have any idea who's trying to kill you?”

Sir Ardsley shrugged elegantly. “There are several possibilities. A number of powers are not at all happy that the Wulfenbach Empire is now allied with England, and that discontent has only grown, as I'm sure you're well aware, since we negotiated with the Corbettites to construct a cross-Channel rail link via a tunnel. And, of course, Tsar Arkadii is rapidly building up Russia into a major power, and although there is as yet no formal alliance, he is friendly to both of us. People fear large power blocs, and I suppose I'm the easiest person in this one to try to assassinate.”

Gil frowned. “The Master of Paris is one who springs immediately to mind; but you're right. It could be one of a number of powers. Still, it's risky. If they did kill you and were caught, they'd find themselves at war with England, with me, and almost certainly with the Tsar.”

“That is why they will be taking especial care not to be caught,” said Sir Ardsley. His face suddenly hardened. “And that is another reason why I have chosen to involve Mr Forrest here. I do not want a diplomatic incident, since, as you quite correctly say, the odds are that it would escalate into a full-scale war. Nobody wins wars. Therefore, if Mr Forrest catches the assassin, I have given him instructions to kill them.”

“Aye, sometimes we do see eye to eye,” said Forrest, equably.

“Yes; but it takes the threat of war,” said Sir Ardsley. “I will not kill to save my own life unless there is no other choice, but I will not hesitate to do it to save the lives of others. Thousands of others, perhaps, in this case. Mr Forrest, I lived through the uprisings; and though I myself, once I reached the caves, was as safe as anyone could possibly have been, nonetheless I saw much of what happened with my own eyes. I had to get to the caves, after all. I saw towns burned and looted. Civilians, even children and elderly people, were killed or mutilated. Even those who escaped unscathed had lost everything for which they had worked all their lives. People fled in terror, not knowing which way to turn, because they did not know when they might run straight into some other enemy force.” He closed his eyes. “And when I did reach the caves, not all the scars of war were left outside. Once I sat up all night listening to a woman who had lost her husband and all their children. She thought I looked a little like her father as a young man, so she came to me to pour out all her grief. She talked, and she wept; and I put aside all formality and held her close to me, as if I really were her father. I suppose I was all of her father she had to lean on in that moment. But I was not enough of her father, for two days later she wandered out into the snow. The Jägers, of course, went after her, but they did not find her quickly enough. She had frozen to death, and I believe that was her intention.”

“You have never told me that story before,” said Gil, quietly.

“I have never told anyone that story before,” replied Sir Ardsley, “because it is a painful one. But it is one of the reasons why I have always worked so hard for peace since I became Ambassador. I will not have that peace broken. I am not God, and I cannot weigh everything in the balance; but my weights are nonetheless good enough to be able to balance one assassin's life against the risk of stories like that happening again all over Europa.”

Gil nodded. “I'm with you on that, Ardsley. I'll arrange some of my own protection for you, with the same instructions.”

“Thank you, Gil; but you need it for yourself,” replied Sir Ardsley. “And I should recommend that you use it. If I am a target, so will you be, tomorrow if not today.”

Gil frowned. “I'm not so vulnerable. I do have an heir, even if an adopted one, and Boris would be a very capable regent until he was old enough to take the reins, if anything were to happen. And Boris has both the will and the brains to ensure that our alliance continues.”

“You are forgetting Russia,” said Sir Ardsley. “Boris as regent would open up an entire can of worms in that direction.”

Gil sighed. “Yes, you're right. I've known him for so long I keep forgetting they think he's still their agent.” He paused. “But, wait a moment. Does anyone apart from you and me and the Russians know that Boris was originally their man?”

“I have no idea. After all, I found out. Though I confess it did take me a while, and even longer to work out that he really had defected to your father's side.”

“Yes, but you're good. And you were here on Castle Wulfenbach.”

“And other spies weren't?” asked Sir Ardsley, arching an eyebrow. “Not wishing to boast, but if neither you nor I knew about them...”

“...then they were good,” Gil finished. “Yes. Well. That's the eternal question, isn't it?”

“Indeed. We can't assume that nobody else knows about Boris. And anyone who does know about Boris might think it well worth the trouble to target you as well as me.”

“We need to fix that, I think,” said Gil. “The Boris thing, I mean. After all, with Tsar Arkadii as friendly as he is... and Boris is history, really, from Arkadii's point of view. He was his grandfather's man, and it's not as if he exactly treasures his grandfather's memory after what happened with his uncle.”

Sir Ardsley nodded. “I quite agree. If it can be successfully fixed, as you put it, it will also be a huge weight off Boris' mind. He has lived with that duplicity for many years, and will be relieved to be able to put it aside at last.”

Gil scratched his chin absently. “H'mm. You're known to be a clever man and a former spy, and Tsar Arkadii likes you. How about you have a little chat with Kuchtanin? You've found out about Boris, and you feel the Tsar ought to know, but you're going to put in a plea for clemency because Boris is your friend, and for that matter one of the best people I've got. And you are good at pleas for clemency. I know you are.”

“Course he is, Baron,” said Forrest. “That's 'cos he's good at respecting other people's.”

“I think I can manage that,” replied Sir Ardsley. “Kuchtanin and I have a great deal of mutual respect. Of course, if it all does go sour, you can certainly protect Boris... but I intend to do my best to ensure there will be no need.”

Gil nodded. “Good. That charade has outlived its usefulness to everyone, including, as you say, Boris himself. By the way, can I offer you both some tea and cakes? It's about that time.”

They thanked him, and accepted with enthusiasm. “Someone had perhaps better speak to Boris first,” said Sir Ardsley. “I know he'll accept that it was your decision, and you've taken the responsibility to protect him if it backfires; nonetheless, I do feel it's courteous at least to let him know in advance that it's being done.”

Gil called over the nearest minion and sent him scurrying off for refreshments. “I'll speak to him myself,” he promised. “For something like that, I won't fob him off by sending anyone else to talk to him. Not even you, Ardsley.”

Forrest grinned wickedly. “I'd say especially not Sir Ardsley, Baron, considering he's got to go and talk to the Russians.”

Gil eyed him narrowly. “You're not exactly in awe of my rank, are you, Mr Forrest?”

“Well, we're all the same when we...”

Sir Ardsley coughed meaningfully. “I don't mind you saying that in front of me, Mr Forrest, but I think perhaps _not_ in front of Baron Wulfenbach, if you don't object.”

“H'mm,” said Gil. “I think I'm beginning to understand which part of being an Ambassador you don't like so much.”

“Indeed,” said Sir Ardsley. “I have always been perfectly comfortable with formality in itself, but I am not so easy with people who bow and scrape in front of me. Mr Forrest is constitutionally disinclined to bow and scrape. He is most refreshing.”

“Yes, well, perhaps if you could make at least a token attempt, Mr Forrest,” said Gil, “I would find it a little easier. Sir Ardsley was not brought up to expect it. I, on the other hand, was.”

“That was... very restrained, Gil,” Sir Ardsley observed.

Gil flicked an eyebrow at him. “I'm hardly going to give him both barrels in front of you, now, am I?”

“All right... Herr Baron,” said Forrest. “I promise I'll behave. I can bow, but I'm not sure I quite know how to scrape.” He demonstrated with the politest bow he could muster.

“It'll do,” said Gil, amused in spite of himself.

They talked for a little while longer, and then a girl arrived carrying a tray of refreshments. She first handed round cakes, and then started pouring the tea. First, a cup for Gil, then one for Sir Ardsley...

“Stop right there, missy,” said Forrest, who suddenly had a gun levelled at her. She dropped the tray with a cry, but Sir Ardsley already had firm hold of his saucer, and the cup did not fall.

“I'm not sure I need to translate here,” said Sir Ardsley, in German, “but my assistant told you to stop right there. You do appear to have understood that.”

She stared at him mutely. So did Gil, in rapidly growing horror.

“Well done, Mr Forrest,” he continued, switching briefly back to English. In German again, he said, “I saw that hand movement too. I used to be a spy; I've done exactly that trick myself. Though never to kill, I might say.”

Gil found his voice. “All right. Who are you really working for, girl?”

“I doubt she'll tell us,” Sir Ardsley replied. “Not if she's been at all well trained, and, considering the fact that she's here in the first place, I believe we can take that as read. No; if I were you, Gil, I should have her room searched. If you've got anyone who can speak English, feel free to take Mr Forrest along. He's got a nose like a bloodhound. As for you...” he looked straight at the girl. “I think you'd probably better drink this.” He held up the cup of tea in front of her.

Her eyes widened in fear. “I... I...”

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you trying to tell me? You can't? Oh, I think you can, especially since the alternative is being shot by Mr Forrest here.”

“But... you...” She gave him a look of helpless appeal.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, I see. My reputation has gone ahead of me, yes? You know what sort of a man I am. You think, since you didn't succeed in killing me, I will let you go with a warning. No. Not this time. Not when your actions would have started a war as soon as your employers were discovered, and, let me assure you, they would have been even if you had succeeded. I will not have war. Not again.” He paused. “And if I were to let you go, then what? You would either have to desert or be killed by your own employers, I very much suspect. You destroyed your own life the moment you slipped the poison into my tea.”

Gil had his own gun aimed at her now. “Do as he says. Drink the tea. Or I'm going to find much worse things to do to you than Mr Forrest here can. I do believe some of my father's old specialist equipment is still around in the dungeons.”

“I will not put my name to that, Gil, not even to stop a war,” said Sir Ardsley hastily. “Killing this young woman will stop her. Torturing her will not add anything to that.”

“I'm not asking you to put your name to it, Ardsley,” Gil flared back. “This is my ship, my domain, and ultimately my business. This isn't about stopping her; it's about stopping anyone else who has the same idea. I intend to make her a very public example of what happens to assassins who are caught aboard Castle Wulfenbach. I know you don't like it, and that's why I'm giving her the chance to drink her own damned tea first.” His eyes narrowed. “Because I somehow don't think that's such an easy choice. I don't think she meant you to have a swift, quiet, painless death, Ardsley; otherwise, she wouldn't be hesitating the way she is. If I were in her position and I'd given someone a quick easy poison, I'd be taking it over the bullet. She isn't.”

“Right,” said Forrest decisively, and pulled the trigger. The girl crashed to the floor, blood welling from her shattered forehead.

The other two men stared at him. It was Sir Ardsley who spoke first.

“I didn't order you to shoot,” he said, a little stunned.

“Course you didn't, sir,” replied Forrest. “You couldn't very well, could you, now? Not after what the Baron just said. It's his ship, his domain, and his business.”

“Quite,” said Gil. “Except that you appear to have rather summarily taken that out of my hands. I could have you arrested. You do realise that, don't you?”

“Oh aye,” replied Forrest, and then conscientiously added, “Herr Baron.”

“But I'm not going to,” said Gil, “much as, I will admit, I want to. Because I know exactly why you did that, and although I still want to kick you very hard, I respect you for it. You're loyal. You're so loyal you were prepared to risk your own neck to get the outcome your boss wanted. And, I've got to say, Ardsley fully deserves that loyalty.” He turned to his friend. “Put that tea down. I'll have it analysed for you. I expect you'll want to know what was in it.”

Sir Ardsley nodded. “Thank you.”

“And you, Mr Forrest,” Gil continued. “Go and talk to that man over there.” He pointed. “He knows a bit of English. Tell him I've sent you to see Willis. He'll take you to him. Then you and Willis are to search this woman's room.”

“Ah. And what was her name again, Herr Baron?” asked Forrest.

Gil frowned. “I've no idea. But someone will know her.”

“All right, Herr Baron.” Forrest paused. “Oh, and... you could always cut her up a bit and hang her up outside somewhere, if you wanted an example. Nobody'd know she was already dead when you did it.”

Gil rolled his eyes. “I know. But thank you for the advice in any case, Mr Forrest, and now will you kindly push off and do what I told you before I change my mind about arresting you?”

Mr Forrest pushed off without a further word.

“Well,” said Sir Ardsley, who was still a little taken aback. “I'm... er... sorry about that, Gil. I did tell him before I brought him here that he would have to be more respectful than usual, but it didn't appear to work very well, did it?”

“Hmpf,” said Gil. “I don't think he knows what respect means. But he does know what loyalty means. I'm very glad you've got him.”

Sir Ardsley gazed down at the body. “I imagine she's not the only one. There will be more.” He crouched down beside her and gently closed her eyes. “Such a waste. She looked as though she had some intelligence and life about her.”

“You were, for once, determined to kill her,” said Gil. “There wasn't a shred of doubt in your mind. You knew what was at stake. You remember yourself what it's like to be in the middle of a war. And still you sound regretful. Why?”

“I'm not questioning the fact that this was right,” replied Sir Ardsley, looking up at his friend. “Unlike some other deaths I've been involved in, I don't want to be able to turn back the clock and solve matters some other way.” He sighed. “And yet... there will still be those who weep.”

Gil looked away. “On the shoulder of a complete stranger, perhaps?”

“It's not impossible.”

“Many would have wept for you, if she had succeeded. And I don't mind admitting I'd have been among them.”

“I know. But nobody wins here, Gil. Nobody ever wins, once one person sets out to kill another.”

Gil extended an arm and helped him to his feet. “I'm not so sure about that. I think Mr Forrest did.”

Sir Ardsley smiled at him wryly. “All right,” he said. “I think I've got to give you that.”


End file.
